


Feliz Navidad Means Merry Christmas

by LaCroixWitch



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas Fluff, Drunk Alec Lightwood, F/F, Female Alec Lightwood, Female Magnus Bane, Fluff and Humor, Genderswap, Insecure Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Fluff, Mundane Alec Lightwood, Mundane Magnus Bane, Mundane Magnus Bane/Mundane Alec Lightwood, Teen Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, mundane AU, tsc secret santa 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaCroixWitch/pseuds/LaCroixWitch
Summary: Shadowhunters Secret Santa 2019Alexandra Lightwood is a perfect student who sticks to herself, never causing trouble and flying under the radar. Magna Bane, on the other hand, is a freewheeling bisexual who cares more about having fun than passing her classes. With Christmas fast approaching, it's time for mid-year final exams, and Mags is well on her way to failing Spanish. Asmodeus hires her a tutor from school, who just so happens to be Alex Lightwood. The two girls couldn't be more different, but with the holiday spirit in the air, maybe Christmas Magic can bring them together.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	Feliz Navidad Means Merry Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! This fic was based on a request for Malec with one of the following tropes:  
> Genderbent AU, Christmas, or Spanish Learning. Always up for a challenge... I decided to do all three!
> 
> If you found yourself here from my other stories, this is definitely a departure from my normal style! But enjoy!

“An ‘ _F’_ , Magna?” Asmodeus buried his head in his hands, his long black hair obscuring his face. “I know I haven’t been around much lately, traveling with the new exhibition, but I thought at sixteen, you could handle yourself better than this without me.” He stood, tossing the paper harshly across the table to Magnus. “You have a tutoring session this evening at 5:00pm. I arranged it through the school, so they’ll know if you shirk out of the responsibility. It’s a shame you’re so… volatile. You know I can afford a much better tutor than this, but at least I know you can’t buy this one off like you did the others. The public school system frowns more harshly upon bribery than the private sector. So you will be here when the tutor arrives.”

“He’s coming here… to the house?” Mags clarified. If the tutor was coming here— on her own turf— that was good. She could easily manipulate her way around someone with home-field advantage. It was safe to say no studying would be happening tonight. What else would happen was anyone’s guess, but if she was lucky, the tutor would pack his bags and leave her the hell alone.

“ _She_ is coming here, yes. At least here, Iris will keep an eye on you two— the school library would be deserted at that hour. Part of selecting a female tutor was so that it was less… unsavory... for you to be unsupervised, but with your proclaimed proclivities, I couldn’t be sure.” 

“Iris is going to be here?!” Mags yelled. “Iris, my childhood nanny? Iris, who you only keep on staff right now to dust off the antiques because you would feel bad cutting her paycheck? You’re going to make her sit here and watch me study French?” She couldn’t believe the audacity of her father— hiring a watchdog to look over her. It made her want to study less than ever— even if it meant finding unique ways to get into trouble or goof off. 

“From what your teacher told me, you skip most of your classes, so let me remind you— you’re taking _Spanish_ , not French.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Mags rolled her green-gold eyes— her mother’s eyes. Eye-rolling incited anger in most parents, but with Asmodeus, anything that drew his irritated attention to his daughter’s eyes was much worse. Mags knew this, and infuriated him anyway— it was why she sometimes narrowed her eyes to cat-like slits, why she would let her tears stream and smear the eye makeup all over her face, and why in moments like this, she rolled her eyes at him in defiance.

“Magna Bane. I have had enough of you. I’ve given you everything you have, and I can take it all away. You are a spoiled, pathetic little witch. You must think you’re a hot-shot living in my mansion by yourself while I travel and work hard so that we can have a good life. You sit here like some princess in a castle— you and your little nasty friends Catarina and Ragnor. Well— all of that is over. Iris is moving in indefinitely, at least until you learn how to get your act together.”

“But—” Magna whined.

“No buts. You’re lucky I’m letting you keep your car. If you don’t get a B or higher on the mid-year exam, then the only Christmas present you’ll be getting is an empty parking space where your car used to be.”

“It’s not a parking space, it’s a garage.” Magna stuck out her pierced tongue as she grabbed a banana from the counter— the quickest breakfast she could grab on her way out of this conversation and into her precious four-door punk-princess pink jeep.

* * *

Alex watched the clock tick by, each second too short, too soon. Each counting down one second closer to 3:00, the final bell, and Alex making her way out into the hills to some fancy rich kid’s house. After school, today was going to be a hassle overall, and a break in her normal routine of school, training, homework, and sleep. When she’d signed up for Spanish Honor Society, all she’d bargained for was the boost to her college resume and maybe a shiny cord around her neck at graduation. What she’d forgotten was that part of the member responsibilities was to be available for assigned tutoring sessions. As luck would have it, Alex’s number was finally drawn— although she’d heard rumors Simon Lewis’ name was picked first, only for the student’s parent to request a female tutor instead. Most people might find it hard to admit that a parent could still be so backwards and rigid about the gender of a tutor, worried about tainting their daughter’s virtue and all that— but Alex understood. 

Her family was more traditional than any she knew. They weren’t necessarily religious— Catholic, but only on the major holidays— but conservatism dominated their household. That’s why Alex always walked such a straight-and-narrow— there was no other way. It was hard enough with Isabelle and Jacey always getting into trouble and Alex always stepping in and holding things together for them— she never had time to rebel herself. Truth be told, this tutoring session was the most outrageous and wild thing she’d had on her schedule in ages.

She made it to her car after class without running into anyone she knew— specifically without running into her siblings, who were unhappy about taking the bus home today. Since she always came to school early, she had a close parking spot at the front of the lot, barely twenty feet away from the school doors. Her car wasn’t anything special— a safe and efficient station wagon, a few years old— but it was hers, paid for from three years of summer jobs and a little money she’d gotten from her grandfather Benedict passing away. She was lucky enough that it had GPS, since her tutoring client lived in an unfamiliar suburb a few miles outside of town. Her teacher assured her it was only a twenty minute drive.

Alex knew her teacher was stretching the truth. The winding roads snaked through heavily-wooded hills, going over one-lane wooden bridges and even passing a few farms. The houses grew larger and larger the further she was from town, and the distance between them was evident of how much land people had. _Great. I’m tutoring a spoiled rich kid._ That was an unfair judgement— maybe she was going to a small farmhouse, or an old cottage. Maybe there was even a small town out this way— it was strange that this was even in the same school district. All hope of tutoring a more average student disappeared when Alex pulled up to a gated driveway, the doors opening automatically as her car approached. The house was enormous— a mansion. 

The doors were formidable, yet inviting. Multicolored stained glass fit intricately between Spanish wrought-iron, a few choice pieces of stone dotting the primarily Spanish-style stucco facade. Part mission-era, part modern, it was a bit haphazard, but it worked— and it was clearly expensive. Alex looked around for a doorbell, but came up short. It felt wrong to knock on a glass door, but it didn’t look like there were any other options. She rubbed her hand over her makeup free face, strengthening her resolve to knock directly on the glass. Right before her pale fist made contact, the doors swung open, seemingly on their own accord.

“You must be the tutor.” The tall, lean girl leaned against the winding foyer staircase, her legs wrapped tightly in black leather, a scrap of a ripped tank-top hanging off her torso. Dark caramel skin contrasted her blindingly white Cheshire grin, and deep purple eyeliner drew out the unique color of her eyes. Alex had seen this girl at school before once or twice. Either they were in different years, or they hung out in very different circles— not that Alex really hung out in many circles at all, but her siblings Izzy and Jacey were pretty popular, so Alex knew more people than she’d like to. The gorgeous girl in front of her paused, clearly waiting for Alex to say something next.

“I— um. I’m Alex.” She held out a hand, offering it for a handshake. _You’re an idiot, Lightwood. Teenagers don’t shake hands!_ Her cheeks flushed as she debated whether it was weirder to hold her hand out longer, or to swiftly pull it back. To her surprise, soft, brown fingers intertwined with her own, the cool, thick metal of rings pushing against the bones in her hand. This wasn’t a handshake— they were holding hands.

“Alex... short for Alexandra I presume? I’m Magna. Call me Mags.” She winked, and Alex’s knees went weak. “So… where are we doing this?” Mags drew out each word, a sinful kitten’s purr dragging Alex’s mind down all kinds of seedy, sinful paths. How could words do that? Words that weren’t even sexy words? Maybe everything felt sexier when a beautiful girl was holding your hand. 

“What?” If Alex wasn’t already flustered, she was now. She dropped Mags’ hand, brushing off her sweaty palms on her ripped black jeans, which she was now acutely aware were likely covered in Church’s grey fur. 

“The deed? Want to do it in my room?” The intimidating girl wiggled her eyebrows, implying things that Alex couldn’t dream about implying so boldly. No— she had to collect herself— she was on a mission. Now that she had a name to put to the face, and a slimy innuendo as a garnish, it all made sense. Rumors of Magna Bane spread through school like wildfire— the freewheeling-bisexual rich kid fallen princess, causing trouble wherever she went, unable to be anything but the center of attention. Somehow, Alex always pictured her as the popular, bleach-blonde cheerleader type, not the punk-rock, blue-haired girl standing in front of her.

“Magna! This must be our guest!” A lanky woman with stringy red hair emerged from down the hall, carrying a tray with a plate of sugar cookies and matching glasses of milk. “Come on! I have you all set up in the parlor. I just finished putting up the decorations today. Your father always does forget about Christmas…” She muttered to herself as she led Alex and Magna down meandering halls toward a warm-lit, secluded living room. 

“Thank you Iris, that will be all.” Magna waved at Iris dismissively once she placed down the tray of snacks. Light from the Christmas candles in the reflected off of Mags’ glittering nails— some blue, some silver— sending fractals of light onto the ceiling. 

“Is Iris your…?” Alex trailed. She didn’t want to seem rude, but she was curious. Magna was struggling in classes, and maybe if there was an evil stepmother situation, that would explain things.

“She’s my nanny.” Mags popped a cookie in her mouth, wincing and waving her hands frantically as she panted hard. “Hot! The cookies are hot!” Alex wasn’t falling for distraction techniques— she could call Mags’ bullshit a mile away. First off, the cookies weren’t hot— if they were, steam would be wafting off of them. Second, the reaction Mags was portraying was ridiculous and obviously fake. Mags didn’t want to do work— if she did, she would have bothered to even fill in something for the answers of the Spanish test she failed. Instead, when Alex read over her exam, the only things scribbled on the pages were ‘ _Me gusta salchicha en mi ano’, ‘tu concha es gorda’,_ and ‘ _Profesora Branwell come mi mierda’_. For someone who was failing Spanish, at least Mags apparently had vague knowledge of verb conjugation. The jabs were all crude, but grammatically correct. 

“Where would you like to start?” Alex opened up her worn-out canvas backpack— the same one she’d been using since the sixth grade—and pulled out a lovingly-used Spanish dictionary, a brown paper-covered textbook, and a binder full of classwork materials. 

“Well, usually I like to start off with dinner—” Mags sat up straight, looking altogether too excited.

“Oh well, that might be nice, I didn’t bring anything and I didn’t eat before I came here…” Alex started, only to be interrupted.

“Then a movie—” Mags crossed her legs dramatically, batting her heavy-mascara coated eyelashes at Alex. Maybe they were false lashes— she couldn’t be sure. Alex had no idea how to use fake eyelashes, and anything involving glue that close to her eye was an instant no. 

“Fine,” She sighed. This was going to be harder than she anticipated. “Why don’t we start off with the last assignment you passed? It looks like that was…” Alex looked through the grade sheet for Magna, shaking her head at all the missing assignments, lateness penalties, and absences. Only a few grades were present on the sheet, but the handful that were there were nearly perfect scores. This didn’t make much sense to Alex— but she wasn’t here to analyze, she was here to do her job. “It was a simple vocabulary worksheet, just fill in the blanks, actually. The assignment after that— where we’ll start today— built off of that, using those words to answer questions using full sentences.” Reaching across the antique table, Alex passed Mags a photocopied worksheet, the writing a bit fuzzy from the low-quality school printer.

“How about we don’t, and say that we did?” Mags tried.

“No. How about you take this seriously?” Alex’s voice was steady and stern, but Mags only laughed, kicking up her feet onto the expensive velvet couch, hanging her head backward off the seat. “Mags, listen— this is my responsibility as much as it is yours. If I can come here and take this seriously— when it isn’t even my work— then I expect you to do the same,” Alex sighed. She knew she was being a bit bitchy, but she couldn’t handle this— all the flirting, the teasing— it was too much. If Mags didn’t make an improvement in Spanish, people might wonder what they were doing during these tutoring sessions, might think that Alex was an incompetent student, or worse— that she might be fooling around with the school’s famous freewheeling bisexual, Magna Bane. The last one would be especially bad, considering that it would mean everyone finding out she was gay. She couldn’t risk that. She worked so hard for people to never find out— and now, she had to fight twice as hard to keep this professional.

“The only things I take seriously involve glitter, booze, or being naked.” Mags ran her hand through her hair, detangling the knots that formed from rolling around in dramatic histrionics on the couch. “Or if I’m lucky… all three.” She whipped around so that she was sitting properly— facing Alex, looking her right in the eye. Maintaining eye contact, she licked her lips slowly before biting her bottom lip suggestively. “I’m already wearing glitter, there’s whiskey in the bottom of the corner cabinet, and I’m certain you’d look _lovely_ nude.”

Alexandra Lightwood had worked long and hard to build what she thought was the most stable closet known to mankind— and some punk named Magna wasn’t about to ruin that for her. Any fluttering feelings of attraction faded, replaced quickly by a surge of annoyance. Alex started to pack back up, putting the textbook back in her backpack.

“That’s it, I’m done. Have fun failing Spanish. You’re lucky I’m just leaving, instead of filing a report with the school for you being a raving nymphomaniac.” Shoving the rest of her materials into her backpack, Alex tugged the zipper harshly and swung the strap over her shoulder. 

“We aren’t at school, you can’t do that!” Magnus balked.

“This is _free_ school-sponsored tutoring provided by the Spanish Honor Society. That makes this an after-school activity, and I am absolutely able to report you for any illicit activity.” Alex walked toward the hall with purpose, not wanting her confidence to falter— to give Magna time to realize her steely exterior was just that— a facade. 

“Wow. I’m sure you have a _lot_ of friends, Lightwood.” Magna yelled after her, not bothering to leave the couch. “Show yourself out!”

Alex made it all the way to the front door before she was pulled backward by the back of her threadbare, grey sweater.

“Wait, stop— I’m sorry.” Magna turned her around by her shoulders, thoroughly woman-handling her. “I was being a huge dick. My dad set up this whole tutoring thing for me, and dumped it on me this morning before he left on another trip. In case you didn’t notice, I have a tendency to act out when I’m forced to do something I don’t want to. I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on you, you’re just doing your job, right?”

Alex wanted to move away from her grip, to slide away and out the door, allowing herself to stew in anger the whole drive home, to never come back to this house again. But something inside of her begged her to listen to Magna, to give her a second chance. That something was just barely stronger than the desire to ruminate, so Alex gave in.

“Fine, I’ll stay— but now I’m going to make you write flashcards. And do all the supplementary worksheets.”

“A small price to pay for your forgiveness, my lady.”

* * *

“Alexandra, darling. Welcome to my humble abode.” Magna leaned forward, air kissing Alex’s cheeks. Alex looked mortified by the gesture, tensing up and edging away. 

“Don't call me that. Only my parents call me Alexndra. You weren’t in school today.” Alex pushed past Magna into the house, eager to get out of the cold. Similar to the last time she was here, Alex’s clothes were lackluster— stonewashed jeans, scuffed black boots, a slightly warped blue-grey sweater. Her dark hair was in a tight braid, a few wisps escaping to frame her face. It was unfair how pretty she looked without even trying. It didn’t even look like she was wearing makeup. 

“How do you know I wasn’t? Maybe our paths never cross.” She narrowed her gold-green eyes in a challenge that Alex chose not to accept, sticking to the objective details.

“There aren’t any marks in the snow on the driveway. Your dad is still away, I assume, and Iris lives here… so you didn’t go to school.”

“Busted. You’re quite the female Sherlock Holmes.” Magna sighed, leaning against the banister of the staircase. Alex was making a beeline toward the parlor, but Magna wasn’t having that today. “Why don’t we study in my room this time? No funny business, I _promise._ ” She winked. Just because she didn’t want to scare Alex away again didn’t mean she was going to stop flirting completely. “The parlor is cold and smells too much like evergreen for my taste. Iris insisted on getting a real tree.” It was awful— and the decorations were worse. None of it was personal, just white ribbons, clear lights, glittering golden stars. It was a good metaphor for how warm and fuzzy Magna and her father were. He probably wouldn’t even be home for Christmas this year— just like the year before, and the year before that. Back when her mom was still alive, the tree was always a hodgepodge of handmade ornaments and bright colors— mom never cared if it clashed with the decor of the house, it was about the family, the spirit of the holiday. This sterile tree in the parlor made a mockery of the whole holiday. 

“A real tree? I respect that. My fighting gym goes on a trip to a tree farm each year— we see who can chop down a tree in the fewest blows.” Magna thought about Alex chopping down trees— dressed in a flannel and jeans, maybe a beanie. Strong firm arms flexing beneath the red and green fabric as she swung an axe into the base of a tree. It was hotter than she wanted to admit— ruggedness was never her type, but she could get behind it.

“Fight gym?” Mags walked up the stairs slowly, hoping Alex would follow behind her since she’d ignored the question of whether or not her bedroom was a suitable study location. A whole new train of thought went through Magna’s mind. Alex in all black with those kendo fighting sticks beating up a bad guy like in a ninja movie. Again, not Mags’ type, but very hot. 

“Uh, yeah! My sister Jacey and I are competitive fighters. I don’t really compete much anymore, but she’s really good. We’re still training partners, though” Alex paused, clearing her throat. “Sorry, I’m sure all that stuff is probably boring to you.”

“What are you implying?” Reaching the top of the stairs, Mags spun around, locking eyes with Alex as she finished her ascent. “Are you implying that I can’t hold my own in a fight?”

“No— I mean sports stuff. To me, fighting is just a sport.” She shrugged.

“And I don’t look like a sporty person?” Mags supposed she shouldn’t be insulted. She was in shape, but it certainly wasn’t from working out in a gym or running around on a field. Dance was to thank for her well-defined muscles and fit figure.

“Well…” Alex’s voice trailed off— a combination between teasing and nerves. 

“Don’t answer that.” Mags held out a warning finger continuing to walk down the hall until she reached her room. “Well, this is me.” She flung open the double doors to her room. It was her pride and joy, each detail meticulously picked out to emulate the feel of a Brooklyn industrial loft— down to the brick wall she installed and the ceiling she’d had gutted. Being a rich only child might be lonely, but it had its perks. 

“Your room is definitely something else.” Alex searched around the room for somewhere to sit, settling down on the velvet couch in the corner. Her posture was stiff, awkward, as if she felt like she didn’t belong— because she didn’t. Mags wondered what Alex’s room looked like at her house. Probably utilitarian and boring, maybe pictures of fighters on the wall or something— although she didn’t seem like the poster type. “Uh… so you don’t have a desk in here? Where do you do your homework?”

“I don’t.” Magna flopped onto her bed, rolling on the mass of fluffy pillows and golden silk bedding. 

“What?” Alex was confused, furrowing her bushy eyebrows. They were nearly as perfectly imperfect as Cara Delevingne's. Models would kill for them. Make blood oaths. Sacrifice innocents.

“I don’t do my homework. But if I do, I just lay down on my bed.” Magna spread her arms out wide, lounging on the bed like a starfish. “There’s plenty of room for activities.” She winked, reveling in how Alex squirmed. To Magna’s surprise, though, the girl quickly recovered. 

“Like a schoolgirl in 90’s movies?” Alex chuckled— it was so satisfying to Magna to get a laugh out of the other girl. A departure from her even, somber tones, there was a weightless feeling behind it. For a teenage girl, Alex’s voice was a bit low and gravely— never grating or annoying, always at an appropriate volume and meter. Mags had a tendency to be loud, obnoxious, and talk way too fast— but at least she was self-aware. 

“I do like to think of myself as a modern day Cher.” It was pretty accurate— a rich girl without a care in the world, a killer and topical sense of style, great hair. The only thing Mags didn’t vibe with was Cher’s aggressive heterosexuality. That was a hard pass for her. 

“Wait, the singer?” Alex sounded confused— it was clear she had no idea what Mags was talking about. 

“From Clueless.” Magna sat up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow. 

“Never seen it.” Alex opened her backpack, rifling through it for study books, flashcards, or whatever other torture devices she was going to try to utilize today. She looked so pretty trying to be studious— her black hair threatening to escape from her braided twist. All she needed were glasses to complete the look, but if she didn’t need them, Magna couldn’t suggest them, could she? 

“You _must._ It’s required viewing.” Magna tried to sound convincing. Alex was a bit of a tomboy, so it might be difficult to convince her to watch such a stereotypically girly movie— but Magna sure as hell could try. 

“Well, we’re going to focus more on _required_ reading. And writing. There are only two weeks until winter break— before the mid-year exam, remember? After that, you can watch movies.” Alex tucked a pen behind her ear. Magna had no idea people did that in real life— wouldn’t the ink get in her hair? It wasn’t even a click-pen, it was an uncapped rollerball. Something about it was dangerous and savage. She loved a girl who lived on the edge, even if the edge was a bit geeky. 

“I’m not the one who needs to see it, you are.” She sat up into a cross legged position, gesturing to the large TV hanging on the wall. “Why don’t I put it on in the background while we study?”

“No— that’s too distracting.” Alex shook her head. “If you’re going to put on anything, maybe just some study music.”

“How about this?” Magna clicked a few buttons on the remote, making a selection. “It’s very… aesthetic, great winter ambiance.”

“The yule log? Really?” Alex scoffed. “I didn’t know people really watched that.”

“Given that my father wouldn’t let me install a fireplace, it’s the best I’ve got.” Magna jokingly sneered. “My sincerest apologies.”

“Fine. This is actually a good place to start— it’s one of the vocab words on the study list. Let’s do some warm up flash cards. I’ll say the word in English or Spanish, you’ll give me the translation. It’s just nouns, adjectives and unconjugated verbs. This one happened to be at the top of my stack. Fire.”

“Easy— _fuego_.” Mags said confidently.

“Wind?” Alex said.

“ _Viento_?” Magna said with uncertainty.

“Book?”

“ _Libro_.” Magna smirked. “Like Libra. What’s your sign?”

“Virgo. Next: backpack?”

“That makes sense, you’re clearly studious, organized.” Magna licked her lips, eyeing how cute Alex looked sitting on her couch— legs crossed, long fingers deftly shuffling through the stack of brightly colored flashcards. She knew her mind was going to the gutter, but she couldn’t help it— teen hormones and whatnot. 

“That is not the translation for backpack.” Alex barely reacted to Magna’s attempts to distract. “Try again. Backpack?”

“ _Bolsa_.”

“Wrong. That’s purse.”

“Not wrong for me, I don’t carry a backpack, only a purse.” Magna took a lot of classes that didn’t require books, and for her classes where she did need to take notes, her oversized bag was more than capable of carrying a folder and a notebook— and much better for her back health. Anything else could easily be carried in her arms, although she avoided toting around school supplies at all costs. It was unsightly. 

“ _Llueve_ ?”  
“Rain— like the song by Selena Gomez. _Un día sin tí es como un año sin llover.”_ Magna sang out in her shittiest singing voice. She was actually a good singer, but she didn’t take herself seriously. Especially not when she was flirting— there was nothing sexy about someone trying to show off their singing voice. It always came off as pompous and delusional. 

“I’ll take note of that— you clearly learn well with music. I have some fill in the blank worksheets for song lyrics. It’s mostly old songs though— there’s some Shakira in there.” Alex laughed at that. “Anyway, let’s keep going. _Vaca._ ”

“Empty.”

“Wrong. That’s _vacio_ . _Vaca_ is cow.” Alex’s accent was clearly authentic— not quite a native speaker, but someone in her family was. It was leading to some comical misunderstanding. “Why are you laughing?”

“Why does it sound like you’re saying _baka_?” Magna couldn’t stop giggling. 

“My family is Spanish, so my pronunciation is more authentic than what they teach in class. The correct way to pronounce ‘V’ in Spanish is closer to a combination of ‘B’ and ‘V’. Now it’s your time to answer. Why are you laughing?”

“I’m laughing because in Japanese, _baka_ means stupid or idiot. Don’t you watch anime? You look like the anime type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alex furrowed her dark eyebrows— a bit bushy and unruly, but the perfect frame for her hazel eyes. 

“Quiet, nerdy, probably a bit of a _hikikomori._ ” The last part would be insulting if she knew what it meant— a reclusive hermit— but Magna was certain Alex had no clue. 

“How much do you know about Japan? Why didn’t you just take Japanese instead of Spanish?”

“I didn’t sign up for classes on time. Plus my dad said Spanish is more important.” That wasn’t exactly how he worded it. It was more along the lines of ‘My daughter needs to make something of herself and stop being a demonic leech on society.’ “Enough about me, Alexandra. More flashcards!”

“To share.”

“ _Comparte?”_ Magna offered with uncertainty.

“Close: _compartir._ A good way to learn these words is to switch the social media apps on your phone to be in Spanish. If you can manage it, set your whole phone to Spanish. It’s easy and immersive.”

“Is _your_ phone in Spanish?” Magna slid off the bed, walking over to her dresser to grab her phone. She hadn’t checked Instagram in at least twenty minutes, and was thankful for the reminder. 

“No— I’m secretary of Spanish Honor Society. I already took the AP Language exam, and this year I’m taking the Spanish Literature one.”

“Wow.” Mags taunted dryly. “You must be _great_ at parties.”

“Well, some of us have to rely on scholarships for college.” Alex mumbled. 

“Pft. You’re a Lightwood. Your parents can pay for college. They’re the biggest lawyers in the area.”

“Yeah— and they got slapped with a huge lawsuit last year. It nearly bled us dry. My whole college fund is gone.”

“Oh.” Mags suddenly felt like a huge dick. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You never would have heard that if you paid attention and didn’t get distracted from studying every five minutes.”

“Now I feel bad— how about I make it up to you with some snacks.” She held out her hand to Alex, pulling her off the couch. “Come on, let’s raid the kitchen. If there’s not enough we can order some pizza too. Or Thai food?”

* * *

“What is that?” Alex gestured to the two glasses of strange, sweet-smelling liquid Mags was pouring out. It was thick and pale yellow— objectively a bit uncomfortable looking. Weirder yet, Magna rummaged through the spice rack, emerging with cardamom and cinnamon, generously sprinkling it over the top enthusiastically.

“Eggnog!” Mags wiggled excitedly. “Have you ever had it before?”

“Doesn’t that have alcohol?” Alex’s family never had eggnog, or any alcohol for that matter. They were a dry house, save for the single bottle of bourbon in her dad’s office. 

“Just a little, but it’s uh… cooked out mostly when it’s brewed. Like, it’s really nothing at all. Less than like… Tiramisu. ” Alex wasn’t completely convinced, but there was something about Mags that made it hard to say no. Her cat-like grin lit her whole face up— it made Alex feel like she could do anything, strange unwelcome adrenaline surging through her even at the most mundane suggestions. 

“Oh. Okay.” Alex leaned over the granite counter-top, putting her weight on her elbows and enjoying a light stretch in her hamstrings. As an athlete, she found herself accidentally stretching all the time, keeping her muscles ready for action. It was natural and subconscious but usually looked a bit awkward. 

“Not much of a drinker?” Mags raised an eyebrow, her arches perfectly groomed, framing her beautiful golden green eyes. 

“Of course not. It’s illegal.” Breaking the law was a terrifying concept to Alex— she feared retaliation from her parents more than anything. If she was ever arrested, there was no doubt about it— she’d be kicked out of the house. Actually, it was probably pretty easy to get kicked out— if they ever found out she was gay, her things would be on the curb the second she got home.

“Well so is having sex in a car, but what teenager hasn’t done that.” Magna laughed as if it were the most commonplace thing in the world— like she was some sex pro. Maybe she was, but Alex certainly wasn’t.

Alex shifted awkwardly. She hated talking about dating, crushes— anything like that — but talking directly and explicitly about sex was so much worse. At seventeen, almost everyone else was more experienced than her, not that it would take much. She’d never even kissed anyone.

“I…” Magna looked away awkwardly. “... guess you haven’t. That’s all good. No judgement.” Her gaze snapped back to Alex. “And _very_ easily fixable.”

If it was possible to faint from blushing— Alex was certain it was about to happen. What felt like every drop of blood in her body rushed to her face, leaving her clammy, sweaty, and lightheaded. She didn’t even particularly like Magna that much— at least she _shouldn’t_. They were so different, but there was something about her that was irresistible, magical even. The thought that a girl like that was propositioning her was too much to bear. 

“Too tall!” Was all Alex managed to bark out. “I’m… uh… too tall to comfortably fit in the back of the car. You’d have to have like an SUV or something…” She was rambling. 

“Like a Jeep?” Mags smirked, raising her eyebrows. 

What was Alex supposed to say to that? Unsure how to respond, she chugged her glass of eggnog, wincing at the peculiar taste. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t good— but it was strangely satisfying and warming.

“Damn, _Mama_. I take back what I said about you being a stick in the mud at parties. I’d love to see you shotgun a beer. My guess is you’re a natural talent.” She winked, the kitchen lights reflecting off her glittered eyelids. How was her makeup so perfect? How many YouTube tutorials did she have to watch to get it that way? Alex could never figure out how to do her hair and makeup, usually leaving her shoulder-length waves do do their own thing and sticking to minimal makeup to hide the stubborn pimples or dark circles. Hair and makeup felt like something other girls inherently understood that Alex could never get the hang of. Her idea of ‘styled hair’ was a braid or a bun— curling and straightening irons were equally menacing foes. “You want some more?” Mags laughed, already pouring out another glass.

“Mm yeah sure.” Alex was feeling warm and fuzzy. Stress she didn’t even know she was holding relaxed from her shoulders. Was it just that Mags was this relaxing? She’d never felt like this before— weird and free. “This is— yeah good!” She giggled— why was she giggling? She wasn’t much for laughter— in fact, her nickname at the fight gym was ‘Stone-Faced Alex Lightwood’, a play on ‘Stone Cold Steve Austin’. Alex hated the comparison— she thought professional wrestling was a stupid theatrical display.

“Look at you loosening up. What’s had you stressed out, babe?” Nobody had ever called Alexandra Giada Lightwood ‘babe’ before. She didn’t know how to take it— to take it at face value meant a level of familiarity she didn’t share with Mags, but to take it as another flirtation would mean accepting that this gorgeous girl in front of her was interested. That was something Alex wasn’t ready to come to terms with, or worse— admit that she liked.

“Calculus finals. I took it today— pretty sure I failed the entire thing.” The exam had covered all the theorems she was weakest on— and was nothing like the practice exams the teacher had given out. Even the format of the test was different, and Alex was terrible at adapting to change. Out of the seven pages of questions, there were only three she was confident about— which didn’t bode well for her GPA.

“Is it your last one?” Magna was playing with one of her many necklaces, sliding the guitar pick along the length of the silver chain. Alex wondered if it was for fashion or for practicality— Mags looked enough like a rock-star to play guitar. Maybe it was a gift from boyfriend or girlfriend— that wouldn’t make much sense though. Would Mags flirt this much if she wasn’t single? People didn’t wear gifts from their exes either, at least based on what Alex gathered from Isabelle’s numerous exploits. 

“Yep. Yesterday was Latin, I already turned in my papers for Spanish Lit and AP English. So technically, I’m done until Christmas.” Alex sucked down another sip of the delicious beverage. “Except for AP Bio— but that’s in-class lab experiment stuff, so it’s fine.” 

“You should be celebrating! You’re done!” Mags’ voice was full of mirth— she sounded genuinely happy for Alex. Hardly anyone ever praised her accomplishments— Jacey and Isabelle were always the center of attention in the house with all their drama, and her mom favored baby Max the most. 

“No— the opposite. Now I wait for the grades to come back. If they’re anything less than perfect, I’ll spend the holidays grounded. My parents are the worst.”

“Grounded?” Mags dropped her glass loudly to the counter. “I had no idea people actually got grounded in real life. How the hell do they enforce that? I mean— sure, my dad’s tried, but it’s not like he’s here enough to even notice what I do.”

“They watch me like a hawk. Sometimes, if I’m enough of a disappointment— ” Alex spat out the word, recalling all the times her parents yelled it at her with contempt, making her feel small and useless. She knew it wasn’t true— her regular appointments with the guidance counselor assured her of that— but it hurt nonetheless. “ — they take my keys. Which sucks because it means I can only go to and from school on the bus. Public transit around here sucks.”

“Well, if they do that, I can always pick you up on the way to school. My drive is hell anyway, a stopover wouldn’t be a problem. Although— you’d have to listen to my music on the way.” She smirked, walking over to a fancy stereo system between the kitchen and the dining room. 

“I’m sure it can’t be so bad. What do you listen to?” Alex walked over, expecting a CD or record collection to look through. The whole-house speaker system was too fancy though, connecting to Mags’ phone wirelessly.

“Right now? I’m listening to this—” Her grin was devilish as the familiar and unwelcome tune blast through the open-concept space. Mariah Carey’s _‘All I Want for Christmas is You’_ was playing, the sleigh bell beat giving Alex mixed feelings. Making matters worse, Mags kicked off her shoes, and put down her drink, beginning to dance across the hardwood floors.

“Care to join me?” She slid up to Alex, grabbing her by the hand. Alex did, and she didn’t. Never in her life was she a dancer— especially not with pretty girls, alone in their houses. But her mind was a bit fuzzy and everything was warm, so she decided to take the plunge.

“Sure. _Fuck it._ ” Alex downed the rest of her drink and slipped off her shoes, letting Mags grab her other hand and sweep her into the dining room. They jumped around clumsily— at least Alex was clumsy. Through all the dancing, she could barely keep her eyes on Mags.

“Wait— let’s go all _Risky Business_ up in this bitch.” Mags started to take off her pants.

“What are you doing?!” Alex froze, her head suddenly spinning.

“Relax, Alexandra Lightweight.” Mags rolled her gorgeous golden sage eyes. “If I was trying to make a move on you by stripping, it would be _much_ sexier than this. I mean recreating that whole Tom Cruise moment where he slid across the floor in socks and underwear. We could totally do it Christmas-style too!”

“With Santa Hats?” Alex wasn’t even sure where the idea came from, or why the words felt strange and clunky in her mouth like her tongue was fuzzy.

“And with dress shirts we raid from my dad’s closet. Come on!” Mags left her pants on for now, the button and fly undone to reveal lacy teal underwear that were going to be the death of Alex. Next thing she knew, they were upstairs, rifling through a walk-in closet full of expensive dress shirts that all smelled like cedar-wood.

“Are you—” Alex hiccuped. “Sure we should be in here? Won’t your dad get upset?” Mags was sliding a huge shirt over Alex’s arms. Was she standing as close behind her as it felt? She swore she could feel Mag’s breath on her neck and her hips pressed against her butt.

“He won’t be home until the 20th.” Mags declared confidently.

“Isn’t today the 20th?” Alex spun around too quickly, her braid smacking Mags in the face. “It is! Because my Calculus test was on the 20th! What time is he coming—”

The sound of the front door opening cut her off.

“ _Shit!”_ Mags said in a panic, yanking Alex roughly by the arm and dashing across to her bedroom. “Okay— new plan.” Mags paced around her bed nervously, trying to think of a solution. “Take these—” Somehow in the rush of panic, Mags had still been keen enough to grab Alex’s clothes. “And I lied about the eggnog— you’re trashed right now, so don’t drive. Um— just get in your car and sleep or something.” Footsteps started up the stairs, and they both froze.

“Magna, I’m home. There’s a car in the driveway— I think your tutor just got here!” His voice bellowed up the hall. Time was running out, and Alex had to think on her feet. She snatched up her backpack, cradling her clothes in her arms, lifting up the window with the other hand. Before Mags could protest, Alex was clumsily climbing down the tree down to the ground. Normally, she was a good climber, but with one hand occupied and her mind clouded by alcohol, she wasn’t at her best. A few feet left to go, her foot slipped on a shaky branch, sending her tumbling onto the frozen ground. She broke the fall with her hand, an all too familiar pain shooting up through her wrist— it was probably sprained. As she bolted to her car, she hoped nobody could see her running in her underwear— this was mortifying enough already.

* * *

  
  


“ _Ayah,_ Daddy! You’re home!” Mags wrapped her robe tightly around her body as her dad walked in her room. “Sorry, I was just getting changed.”

“Oh— my apologies.” He looked away. “I think your tutor is here, so you better get dressed quickly. I saw their car in the driveway.”

Mags knew Alex wasn’t coming in the house. How was she going to rationalize this? Say the tutor was already done? That wouldn’t work— Alex’s car wouldn’t be going anywhere soon since she wasn’t driving. Panic surged in her stomach when she realized that there was a possibility that Alex would try to drive anyway— she wasn’t an experienced drinker, she might underestimate how drunk she was. This was all Mag’s fault. Maybe she could lie and say that the tutor was finished, but her car broke down and she was going to try to get it towed. That wouldn’t work though— her dad would offer to call a tow, and it was unlikely that Alex would have been able to get an Uber or Lyft this far out of town.

“Mags, are you listening to me?” He snapped his fingers. “Honestly, if this is how you pay attention in school, it’s no wonder you’re failing. He clicked his tongue. When the doorbell rang, it shocked Mags in a way that she hoped didn’t look suspicious. “That must be her now— I’ll go let the tutor in. Don’t leave her waiting— you don’t want to waste this poor girl’s time.”

Mags threw on some comfier clothes for comfort— a vintage punk band sweatshirt, leggings, and fur boots. She prepared herself for a mix of possible scenarios— a drunken Alex making a fool of herself, a weepy Alex apologizing to her dad and telling him everything, Alex puking right on her Dad’s Italian leather shoes. When she got downstairs though— what she saw was surprising.

Alex looked completely normal, not a hair out of place. From a few feet away, she could smell the sharp scent of wintergreen gum, covering up any trace of alcohol-breath. Alex was a quick learner— Mags was more than impressed. Maybe she and Alex were more alike than she thought.

* * *

“Alex— Alexandra.” A loud sound woke her up, the cool surface of her desk rattling under her face. Desk— wait, she was at school. “You’re lucky this is study period, or else you’d get detention.”

“It won’t happen again, Mr. Starkweather.” She nodded, rearranging her papers on her desk and trying to look busy. This close to Christmas, she didn’t actually have anything to work on or study during this time— which is why she was drifting off. She had a novel she was reading, but she left it at home this morning after oversleeping. Everything in her body hurt and it felt like she was dying. Jacey said it was a hangover, and tried to hi-five her for it, but it was nothing to celebrate. The humiliation of getting dressed behind a hedge or the exhaustion that came the day after the eggnog binge would never be worth it. She’d let a pretty girl convince her to make bad decisions— she was weak. There was only one study session left with Mags, and she’d have to make it through. She could do this.

* * *

Magna felt weak— it wasn’t like her to lose track of details, especially not important ones like when her dad was coming home. She was a master planner, a master manipulator, and to be both of those things you always had to have superior command of the facts. All she wanted to do was forget about it, but fate had other ideas. 

“ _¡Hola clase!_ ” The teacher smiled too cheerfully for Mags’ taste, clutching a stack of papers likely still warm from the copier. 

_“Hola Señora.”_ The students mumbled half-heartedly.

 _“¿Estáis listos para un examencito?”_ She was met with groans. Of course they weren’t ready for a pop-quiz. Their exam was in two days. On December 23rd. How could she be smiling when she was the embodiment of a Scrooge, worse than the Grinch? And today? While Mags was nursing a hangover? This was torture.

 _“Pues, espero que si. Esto es un parte del examen final del semestre.”_ She handed a stack of papers to each row of seats, the students reluctantly passing them back. _“Tenéis treinta minutos para completarlo. Buena suerte.”_

Thirty minutes and a sentiment of good luck wasn’t going to be enough to get Mags to pass.She grabbed a pencil from her purse, dreading what she was about to read on the paper. This was part of the final exam, and she was sure to fail. Even after two study sessions with Alex, she was not prepared in the least.

_¡Feliz Navidad! En el espíritu de los festivos, dime que haces con tus amigos o familia para celebrar, o una memoria en que disfrutastes algo estacional._

Her Spanish was so bad that it was a bit difficult to even translate the prompt, but she did her best.

_Merry Christmas! In the spirit of the holidays, tell me what you do with your friends or family to celebrate, or a memory where you enjoyed something seasonal._

Normally, Mags would loathe this prompt— for years the holidays were lonely and boring. And a memory where you enjoyed something seasonal? What the hell did that even mean? Who spoke like that? She chewed on the eraser of her pencil, racking her brain for something to write. Seasonal— like Christmas trees, cookies, eggnog. Suddenly, she knew exactly what she was going to write about. 

* * *

“I’m sorry you have to grade these so quickly, but their exam is tomorrow and I want to put their grades in before they take the test.” Charlotte Branwell— the Spanish teacher— smiled at Alex, her eyes apologetic. Alex didn’t know why she was apologizing— this was her TA period, where the only thing she had to do was grade papers in an empty classroom, listening to music or talking to Señora Branwell.

It was a standard, open-ended paragraph response question about what students liked to do for the holidays. Bland and simple, but a good opportunity to show off vocabulary for terms of endearment, family— even verb conjugations. Red pen in hand, Alex dove into the pile of papers hungrily— this was her happy place. The older sibling in her loved to teach, to correct, to mold people into the best versions of themselves— but the snarky teenager in her revealed at the sight of so much red ink marking up an assignment. She wasn’t drunk on power, but she was a little buzzed. Falling into a steady rhythm, she found herself on autopilot, tapping her toes to the lo-fi beats from her earbuds. Answer after answer blended together— until a familiar name reared its head: Magna Bane.

Alex swallowed, her throat feeling suddenly dry. For some reason she couldn’t place, she was nervous about what Mags’ answer might be. The other girl didn’t seem to enjoy the holidays, making this prompt feel painfully unfair. Stacking onto that, wasn’t this a conflict of interest, Grading Mags’ paper? The only reason of course, being that Mags was her tutoring student. There definitely wasn’t anything else about Mags that could cloud Alex’s judgement. She could hand the paper over to Señora Branwell— tell her that it might be better for her to grade this one— but Alex hesitated.

A few things were tugging at her heart. She was protective over Magna’s grades. Even if her father wasn’t as strict as Alex’s, the consequences for failing a class couldn’t be good. Alex’s corrections on the assignment might even be helpful, since Mags was used to the way Alex taught her. There was something else too—- a morbid curiosity to read Mags’ answer, to see what she came up with. The verdict was in, and combined together, the mixed emotions won.

Chewing at the inside of her cheek, Alex poised her red pen over the paper. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before beginning to read. This was ridiculous— she shouldn’t be so nervous to do her job. Opening her eyes she didn’t realize she’d squeezed shut, she started to read. Mags’ Spanish wasn’t great, and the sentences were very clunky, but she was able to deduce her point regardless.

_For me, Christmas usually is the worst. My dad works too much, and my nanny is always there even though I’m practically an adult. My nanny is a white lady who looks like a skinny Martha Stewart with red hair, and she doesn’t understand me. This year, to make Christmas worse, I had to have a study partner for this class because I’m doing poorly. I think it was a Christmas Miracle because the tutor might be one of my favorite people now. She was strange and quiet at first— very different from me. She doesn’t wear lots of makeup and her clothes are kind of terrible, but she is very beautiful anyway. One night, I even convinced her to have fun. We drank eggnog and danced, and her smile was magical. I hadn’t seen her so happy before. It was the most Christmas fun I’ve had in a long time. My dad ruined it though by coming home, and Alex had to jump out a window. I hope I can convince her to have fun again._

Unsure what outside force possessed her feet to move, Alex stood up and bolted toward the door. Her hormones were leading the way, and for once, she was giving in.

“Alex— where are you going?” Senora Branwell called in concern.

“I’ll be back there’s just—” Alex sucked in a nervous breath. “There’s something I have to do.”

She bolted down the hall toward the auditorium. Thankfully, she remembered that Mags had study hall this period. Her body felt like it was burning up as she pushed through the doors. What was she doing? Over a hundred faces turned to stare at her, but there was only one pair of eyes she was searching for— those beautiful golden-green ones that made Alex’s knees weak and her heart pound out of her chest. She could look around, but that would take too long— by then she might lose her resolve. Instead, she willed her dry throat and her nervous voice to call out.

“Mags!” The name echoed through the auditorium. Everyone was silent, eagerly watching whatever drama they thought was about to unfold.

“Alexandra—” Mags’ velvet voice replied as she rose from her seat, turning to face Alex. Mags slid through the tight row of seats while Alex walked toward her— it was clear Alex was on a mission. When they were finally face to face in the middle of the aisle, Mags tried to speak, her voice quiet, barely a whisper. “What is—”

She never got a chance to finish. Alex cupped Mag’s face in her hands, pressing a clumsy but insistent kiss to her purple-lipstick coated lips. She didn’t care if it smeared on her face, she was working on instinct— following her impulses— living in the moment. She was doing everything Mags inspired her to do. When Mags started to kiss her back, pulling her in close so their bodies were flush, Alex’s breath hitched in her chest. She welcomed Mags tongue into her mouth, sighing at the sweet taste of her dragonfruit flavored gum. The auditorium erupted into a cacophony of wolf-whistles, coos, and applause. Taunts of ‘Get it!’, ‘Damn!, and even “Ay mamis” were barely registered by Alex as she let herself get lost in Mags.

“Girls! You are going to stop this right now or I’m sending you to Principal Herondale’s office!” The study hall attendant yelled. Alex didn’t let Mags go right away, letting the kiss run its course on its own. As they pulled apart, Alex’s chest felt tight, her hair clung to the back of her neck from nervous sweat.

“Mags— what did I just do?” She panted, pure adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

“ _Me besaste_.” Mags smirked. “In front of a packed auditorium.” Somehow, her hands were intertwined with Alex’s, swinging playfully between them.

“You actually learned your past-tense conjugations?” Alex laughed, the sensation a bit painful within her tight chest.

“Sit down now! This is your final warning!” Starkweather’s voice boomed.

“This isn’t my study period, I should go.” Alex said hurriedly, running out of the room just as quickly as she entered, stealing one final glance at Mags before she let the heavy doors swing behind her. She stood with her back against the cold tile walls, letting the sensation ground her as the consequences of her actions finally sank in. She just came out to almost the whole school. She just kissed a girl. Not just a girl— but Magna Bane. She was a mess of nervous energy, but she found it in her to smile anyway. She just kissed Magna Bane.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, and if there's any interest, I could always write a cute little epilogue!


End file.
